Thirteen

When I think back aeons ago to when I turned thirteen, I remember a strange time full of “just abouts”… Just about old enough to catch the bus in to town to meet friends, just about old enough to make terrible choices in fashion and hair (thanks Mum for letting me go ahead with my copying Imelda off Grange Hill idea that left me looking more eighties German footballer than the cool school rebel image I had hoped for), and just about old enough to start earning babysitting money which I then squandered on lilac shimmer lipsticks, and odd coloured nail varnish chosen from my Mother’s Avon catalogue. Before becoming a parent myself, part of me would probably have considered asking my own parents why they let me go ahead with some of my stranger choices as a newly turned teen, but now I realise it’s part of letting your own newly turned teenager have a bit of freedom as they start to explore image, space, and life in general (and could potentially serve well as slightly embarrassing stories that parents seem to relish telling for the fifteenth hundred time somewhere down the line)…

If you hadn’t already guessed, my definitely not so small girl turned 13 a few days ago. I know I say it every year, but I can’t honestly begin to think where the time has gone. And with this milestone I guess starts the slow but heartbreaking process of having to let go, little by little…

Although they only take place every four years, I always associate the Winter Olympics with her birthday. I remember that first year we spent in Denmark we watched the Vancouver Olympics whilst surrounded by piles of snow outside, bravely venturing in to town on her special day to “Build a Bear” – where, having found out it was a special visit, the staff stood her on a table and the entire shop sang her Happy Birthday, whilst she looked on bemusedly. My tiny girl in her red wool coat and winter boots, and a necklace she had fashioned herself out of buttons if my memory serves me correctly. I remember thinking how grown she looked then. How completely stupid of me.

This year was her first real birthday in the UK for years (we popped to Asturias last year to celebrate), and she was able to celebrate early with a few school friends before one of them left to return to life in Brazil (such is the curse of international school). Then, thanks to half term happening around the day itself, we had a great few days introducing her to a few favourite parts of London, before spending a couple of days in Hampshire with Grannie (who managed to excel at the Tardis cake request!)… It’s a hectic time of year in our house, but usually a fun one!

An Asturian Beach Birthday celebration last year…

As is tradition every birthday in our house, a little note to the new teenager… The picture of you at the top was taken on Fjäderholmarna in Stockholm, wasn’t in any way staged, and sums you up perfectly. You are so passionate about so many things that I was probably pretty oblivious to at the same age. Politically you are far more knowledgeable than I actually might be today, and you sometimes floor me with your stance on unjust goings on on in the world. And then, when I think you might be 27 in disguise, something will pop out that reminds me that you are in fact just 13, and there’s a good chance you may well lose some of your fieriness as you grow older, or learn how to keep a lid on in it certain circles anyway (or not. Time will tell. Part of me hopes not to be honest!)…

Thankfully, we haven’t encountered many Kevin moments yet (nb. parents make sure to show your soon to be teenager the “Kevin Turns into a Teenager” clip – it’s both hilarious, and pointed!), and apart from mornings which to be fair you have never been good at, you are mostly so lovely to be around. This past year hasn’t been the easiest as we have gradually adjusted to not only being back in a country that must still seem quite alien considering how little you were when we first left, but to a part of it that we have no connection with which must seem even stranger. As well as a new school, and getting used to wearing a uniform for the first time (which you are not a huge fan of to put it mildly!!), you also had to cope with leaving most of your friends behind in a country you still consider home at a stage that you could have probably really done with them (thankfully socially media is good for some things!). But, although we have more changes just around the corner, I know you will take them in your stride as you always have. If you carry on like this in life, you will go far my sweet, honestly you will. Here’s to the year ahead! PS. I have loved watching you cheer for “both of your countries” in the Olympics this year, who would have thought all those years ago. x

Back with a London post in a day or so if I manage to sort through all my 50 million photographs…

My friends daughter is 13 this week and I can’t quite grasp how’s she not 7 or 8 anymore, she looks like a little adult and I just want to shake her and say no you’re not supposed to grow up lol. This is a lovely post and what a beautiful note to your daughter

Aw Happy 13th Birthday to your daughter, I fully agree they grow so fast don’t they. My daughter turns 10 this year and it seems crazy that she is at double digits already, I’m not sure I’m ready for the teenage years but i’m hopeful that we can ride it out together x

Love this post Emma. My girl turned 13 in October too, and I recognise so much of what you’ve written here. They are astonishing at this age, aren’t they? And yes, it does make me nostalgic for the younger days when I didn’t realise what I had. Yet I’m still amazed by how much I have now!

I write with a tear running down my cheek after reading your lovely post. The words of the Abba song ‘Slipping through my Fingers’ resounding in my head. You will go far R and we will always treasure the lovely, clever, very special person that you are. x